


Paradox

by Jester85



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jester85/pseuds/Jester85
Summary: When Arthur thinks of Eames at all, it is with a sort of vague disdain.





	Paradox

When Arthur thinks of Eames at all, it is with a sort of vague disdain.

For his scruff, his slovenly appearance, the hideous paisley shirts and baggy pants and jackets that make him look fat and ungainly, the way he slouches and sprawls his bulk all over chairs he's bulging out of.

Arthur finds him aesthetically displeasing.  Not to mention he oozes sketchy ex-pat lounging around Kenyan gambling dens and looking like he just dragged himself up out of a ditch.

That he knows Eames is in Mombasa without Cobb even asking is nothing.  He prides himself on being on top of any intelligence of note, and the location of one of the few forgers in the fairly small dreamshare community is of note.

He's not enthused about the idea of Eames joining the Inception job, and indicates as much, but if there's one thing he's learned from shadowing Dom Cobb around the world, it's that there's no dissuading Cobb once he sets his mind on something, for better or worse.

Which means there's nothing more for Arthur to do besides hope Eames' involvement in Inception won't be "for worse".

*** * ***

Arthur is seldom surprised, and Eames' behavior is not an exception.

The Englishman is everything Arthur expected him to be.  He lounges and slouches and sprawls in his chair like a little boy with a wandering attention span, he interrupts very serious group brainstorming sessions with facilely inane one-liners about math not being his strong subject, or pretending not to know what specificity means, then seeming weirdly gleeful about Arthur sounding it out for him, and he takes great amusement in showing Ariadne the meaning of "kick" at his expense.

Eames has always taken inordinate interest in needling Arthur, kicking his chair out from under him, interrupting, pretending to be dumber than he is because he knows it irritates him.  Arthur mentally compares Eames to a little boy on a playground pulling pigtails, and then he shuts off that line of thought because the implications of that are not something he is prepared to deal with right now.

The first time Eames manages to surprise him, it rocks him back in his seat a bit.  He can appreciate the elegant simplicity of the solution, to _Fischer giving himself the idea._

"Eames....I am impressed," he grudgingly admits.  

Apparently a little too grudging, because Eames takes it for condescension. 

Arthur resolutely does not rise to the bait of Eames' equally condescending one-liner, nor the cheeky wink and grin the bulky Englishman flashes his way, even if it gives him a momentary mental image of that bulk sinking down into his lap and straddling him in his chair, Eames' big arms winding around his neck, and those cock-sucking lips purring into his ear.

Arthur is sexually attracted to intelligence.  You could say he's got a bit of a competence kink.  He'd be lying if he said there wasn't at least a little rapport between he and Ariadne, more than he has in most human interaction at any rate, but she already looks at him starry-eyed, and he refuses to take advantage of a rookie learning the ropes to whom he is playing mentor, no matter how quick she's picking it up.  It'd be inappropriate and unprofessional workplace behavior, and Arthur is nothing if not professional.

So yes, Arthur is attracted to intelligence.  He just hadn't expected that to apply to Eames.

*** * ***

That Eames is good at what he does is not some shocking revelation to Arthur.  Of course Eames is a competent forger; if he wasn't, Cobb wouldn't have flown straight into Cobol's backyard to recruit him, and Arthur wouldn't have stood for it.

Arthur is not entirely certain when their thinly-veiled mutual antagonism crosses the line into something that could almost be considered flirtation---though he ruefully suspects their mutual outrage at discovering Cobb has led them into a war zone with Limbo underneath their feet waiting to swallow them whole plays a part---but it's clearly at that point by the time he's got Eames on his back in a hotel room in less enjoyable ways than he might have liked, hooking him up.

It's a private moment for only the two of them, everyone else asleep. 

"Security's gonna run you down hard," Eames drawls in a whisper, cheeky grin on his face, but there's something quieter, softer, a little more sincere.

"And I will lead them a merry chase," Arthur shoots back, not cocky, just confident in his own abilities.

Eames looks amused anyway.  But that softness is there again, when he whispers "Just be back before the kick", and Arthur would swear the shifty untrustworthy forger is actually concerned about him.

There's not the time or inclination to deal with that right now, but it makes a little furling of warmth unspool in Arthur's chest, and his tone is grudgingly fond when he says "go to sleep, Mr. Eames".

*** * ***

Arthur isn't sure what he's waiting for, precisely.

It's foolish, and dangerous, and against all rules, both professional and his own exacting personal standards.  They should split up and scattered to the four winds the second they're all through immigration.  Cobb is already through the gate into the bosom of his family after a farewell smirk and nod with Arthur, Saito has already disappeared somewhere, presumably already back to being master of the universe, Yusuf and Ariadne are drifting off in different directions, but here he is, the Point Man, the most watchful and wariest of them all, just hovering around in the lobby at LAX, like he's waiting for one last kick.

Arthur is too disciplined and self-possessed to lie to himself for long though, and well, he's lingering because Eames is lingering, the Englishman looking surprisingly sleek in a slimming dark suit that flatters his figure far better than the baggy oversized misshapen monstrosities he inexplicably favors, just loitering at the gate with his bag like he's expecting him.

Perhaps he does.  Arthur cringes at the thought of being predictable---but only inwardly, because he won't give Eames the satisfaction---but Eames is a forger, after all.  Being adept at reading people is his very particular skill set.

"You look lost, Mr. Eames," Arthur dryly remarks with just a little of the same "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames" smirk in his voice, cheeks dimpling a little and eyes crinkling, a speckle of warmth tinging his intentional blandness.

"Deciding on my next flight," Eames shoots back with seeming utter nonchalance.  "I'd have thought you'd have fucked off by now."

"I told Cobb after this job I was going stateside," Arthur offers, as if that acknowledges anything.

Eames hums faintly, looking bemused by his rather lame attempt at deflection.  "So is there anything to see in this godforsaken place, or should I fuck off back to Mombasa with Yusuf?"

"I wouldn't make the best guide," Arthur admits, "I, uh, haven't been home in two years."

Eames shoots a keen glance straight into his eyes, then flickers away, as if the directness makes them both uncomfortable.  "Been ten since I set foot in Jolly Old.  Drawbacks of our chosen profession, I fear.  S'pose it is lonely at times, innit?"

Arthur shrugs.  It's only a little defensive, but he's pretty sure enough for Eames to pick up on.  "I'm alone.  I am not lonely."  It doesn't even sound convincing to his own ears.

"Lucky you," Eames murmurs, so quietly Arthur has to strain to hear it.  Then, "Planning to celebrate on the town, then?"

"Actually I'm planning to celebrate by sleeping for the next twelve hours _not_ hooked up to a Pasiv."

Eames nods, eyes tightening at the corners.  "Have a good kip, love."

Arthur leaves Eames' side with a curt, professional nod, leaving the man still standing, vaguely lost in the airport lobby.  When he's taken a few steps and realizes he's alone, he stops, smirks over his shoulder, jerks his nod as he asks, "You coming?"

It's not often that Arthur manages to surprise Eames.  He's not in fact entirely sure if he ever has.  But the way Eames' face lights up with surprised delight....yea, Arthur thinks he might count that as a win.


End file.
